


The Goose Is On The Loose In Ponyville Tonight

by Alara J Rogers (AlaraJRogers)



Category: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Untitled Goose Game (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23284624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaraJRogers/pseuds/Alara%20J%20Rogers
Summary: It's a lovely day in Ponyville, and here comes a horrible goose.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. The Yellow Pony Is Off Limits

The creature waddled out of the Everfree, its beady eyes intent on the charming, bucolic cottage it saw before it, and the various things around that cottage that were not nailed down. Flowers! Gardening tools! Bird houses! Wind chimes! A large bright sunhat, currently sitting on a pony’s head! It was all so enticing. The creature lowered its neck and snuck forward.

And then was brought up short by a good look at the pony, who had a pink mane and a yellow coat. That was the pony that was off-limits. Disappointed, the creature let out a sad honk.

The pony looked up. “Oh! A goose!” she said, in a much friendlier tone than most ponies said that in. Usually, “Oh, a goose!” sounded from a pony like “Oh no,” or “Not this again”, or possibly, “The horror! The horror!” However, this pony sounded excited and cheerful. Somewhat confused, the goose waddled forward, toward the pony.

“What a lovely goose you are!” the pony said. “I didn’t know there were any geese living in the Everfree. Well, aside from Yakyakistan geese but it’s really not their season to migrate right now. But look at you! Such a strong, healthy looking goose! Did you want something to eat? I have some lovely pond weeds in my fish pond here.”

The goose honked.

“Oh, I see. Well, I feel like I have to offer you something if you came all this way to visit me,” the pony said. “How are those wings? Can you flap them a bit for me?”

Somewhat surprised at itself that it was listening to a pony, the goose obligingly flapped.

“Nice! I can tell you’ve been getting some exercise,” the pony said. “Can you fly?”

The goose honked sadly.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, but with all the exercise I can see you’ve been getting, I’ll bet you’ll be strong enough to get off the ground in no time. Would you like me to help you with a physical therapy regimen? My chickens learned to fly with my assistance, and if a chicken can fly then surely a lovely goose like you should be able to.”

The goose honked twice.

“I see! Well, if you’re already working on that I won’t try to persuade you to let me help. But you have to accept something from me…” The pony’s eyes fell on where the goose’s covetous glance had pointed. “Oh! Would you like a flower from my garden?”

The goose honked.

“Go pick one out! I can pin it to your feathers for a decoration if you’d like!”

The goose strutted over to the flowerbed, chose a large and dramatic red tulip, and pulled it out of the ground with its beak. “That’s a nice one,” the pony said approvingly. “That’ll go very well against your feathers. Here, let me—” 

Suddenly the pony was entirely too close to the goose, causing it to flap frantically, as it usually did when it got too close to a pony, but its attempt to back away from the pony was stymied by the pony’s own wing resting on the goose’s back, holding it in place. Hooves touched its chest and did something complicated. By the time the goose was able to flap away, the pony had already fastened the tulip to its breast feathers… somehow. The goose peered at itself in the waters of the pond. That did look very nice indeed.

“There you go! You look so striking now! Well, I won’t keep you, I’m sure you had some important goose business you were attending to before you wandered over here, but if you’d ever like a bite to eat or some medical care, feel free to stop back here anytime.”

The goose, surprising itself, honked.

“Oh, and thank you for coming to visit!” The pony waved. The goose bowed, and then waddled onward, understanding now why its to-do list told it not to harass or steal anything from the pink-maned pony with the yellow coat.

Flap-pap-pap. Flap-pap-pap. Its webbed feet struck the ground in a rhythm. Occasionally it fluttered its wings, which weren’t quite strong enough to get such a large bird as it was off the ground. This seemed hardly fair; the ponies with wings were much bigger, with proportionately smaller wings, and yet they could fly. 

Now it was traveling through a forest that was far more open and cultivated than its home in the Everfree, with widely spaced trees that were all, by some coincidence, apple trees. As it traveled, it noted a mare wearing a hat, kicking a tree with her back legs, which caused the apples on the tree to fall neatly into a barrel. It also noted a filly bouncing a ball against a tree by kicking it with her back legs, then smacking it with her front legs as it bounced back, then spinning and repeating her actions. Near her was a checkered blanket, slightly crumpled on the ground, with an empty picnic basket next to it.

It approached the gates of a fancily decorated farmhouse, where gate and house were both festooned with apples. Inside the gates, there was a large red stallion banging a hammer against the roof of a barn, and an elderly green mare in a rocking chair in front of the farmhouse, sitting by a table with a sweet-smelling pie cooling off next to her. The goose stopped for a moment and lifted a single wing. Magically, a scroll appeared in front of it.

“to do:

\- Lock the stallion in the barn

\- Take the mare’s hat

\- Apple avalanche

\- Steal a ribbon

\- Make a pony miss the tree

\- Let the apples hit the ground

\- Trip a pony with a lasso

\- Ride a cow

\- Have a picnic (blanket, apple, basket, pie, daisy sandwich, plate, jug, cup)”

It was a long list, but the goose was prepared. It put away the list by lowering its wing, and strutted through the gate.


	2. Sweet Apple Acres

The elderly pony appeared to be asleep, and the pie was _right there._ The goose waddled up to the little table and grasped the pie in its beak.

Ouch! That was hot. The goose dropped the pie back on the table, waking up the elderly pony. "What in— a _goose!_ " She got to her hooves. "Shoo! Shoo, goose!"

The goose did not shoo... not until the elderly pony picked up the walker that was on the other side of the chair and waved it threateningly at the goose. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, the goose honked in indignation, fluffed its wings, and strutted off toward the barn.

Up on top of the barn, the big red stallion was banging away at the roof with his hammer. The goose strolled into the barn, where its beady eyes were drawn to a stool... a stool that had on top of it a plate, and on that plate, a sandwich. The goose came closer. Yes! That was a daisy sandwich. Two items for its picnic!

It tried to pick up the plate with its beak, reasoning that if it carried the sandwich on the plate, it would be able to transport both at the same time. However, as soon as it picked up the plate, the sandwich slid off into the hay on the floor. Well. That was regrettable. Maybe it should go back for the basket so it could put the sandwich in the basket... but that basket had been pretty large, and probably hard to drag.

First things first. With the plate in its beak, it waddled quickly, flap-pap-pap, out the door, alongside the house — which went behind the elderly pony, so she didn't see the goose — and over to the gate that led to the orchard, back the way it had come. As it walked, it looked around, noting the positions of everything. There was a gate back _out_ of the property, leading to the road... that seemed like a great avenue to explore, later, when it was time to leave this area. It saw a chicken coop and a couple of hog houses, but no cow barn... yet. Well, the to-do list had said to ride a cow, so there had to be a cow around here somewhere.

It would take too long to actually take the plate all the way to the picnic blanket, so it just stuck it under a bush right outside the gate, where the ponies wouldn't see it, and then went back to the barn for the sandwich. The pie was probably not cool enough for beak-carry yet.

Carefully it observed the positions of everything. The doors to the house proper appeared to be shut, with handles that the goose had to wonder why ponies would have handles like that, and why _they_ could use round handles when the goose couldn't. The goose preferred levers that could be pried up or down with a beak, but you couldn't have everything. The barn, however, had two large, heavy doors, one of which was closed. The other was propped open by a rope tied around the handle at one end and around a stake in the ground at the other end. A large nail sticking out of the stake provided the leverage to keep the rope from sliding up and off the stake.

That wasn't a very complicated knot. The goose eyed it with interest.

In the rest of the yard, the old mare had her walker on one side of her rocker, and her table with the pie on it on the other, and appeared to be mostly asleep. The goose considered the possibility of dragging the walker off, but decided that the sandwich was more important. There was a well in the front of the yard, near the gate to the outside, with a bucket and a couple of water barrels beside it. Next to that there was a hill, that sloped upward gently and gradually but climbed high enough to look down on the house. The portion of the hill close to the house was planted with rows of vegetables of some kind, but up at the top there were more apple trees, and barrels full of apples sitting on top of that hill. The goose couldn't count particularly high, so it just noted that there were lots of the barrels.

There were four gates in the yard. One gate, the one the goose had come through, led back to the orchard the goose had traveled through on its way from the Everfree and the yellow mare's house. The second gate was in the front yard leading out to the road. A third gate was no more than a gap in the fence on the opposite side of the house, near the door that the goose couldn't open, and barely a few paces away from that there was a fourth gate, another of the rounded arches, leading up to the hill with the vegetables and the additional orchard at the top. The third and fourth gates were set in a small set-aside of fencing that contained the door the goose couldn't open, and some lovely flowers in flowerboxes that might just be within the reach of a gooseneck.

But first things first. Get that sandwich before the stallion climbed off the roof and found it.

The goose put its head down and ran, full tilt, toward the barn door, slipping inside before anypony saw it. So far so good. The sandwich had not been cut in half, which was even better; that meant the goose was going to be able to carry the entire sandwich. _And_ whatever ingredients it was using were doing a good job of keeping it practically glued together. The goose smelled peanuts as it lifted the sandwich, and apples, and carrots, and celery. Yum. Most of what it was assembling for the picnic were things it didn't particularly care about, it just needed them because of the to-do list, but this sandwich? This sandwich was going in a goose belly, later on.

It strutted out the door with the sandwich. This turned out to be a mistake.

"Hey! Hey, there! That's my sandwich!" a stallion's voice yelled from above. 

The goose began running for the gate back to the orchard, figuring that the stallion would have to take time to climb off the roof. It had forgotten entirely about the fantastic resilience of earth ponies. The stallion jumped from the upper roof onto the small, awning-like roof over the door the goose couldn't open, and from there, was easily able to leap to the ground and give chase.

"Give that back!" the stallion yelled.

Recognizing that for speed, it was no match for a pony, the goose dropped its sandwich and stalked off in high dudgeon. The stallion picked up the sandwich. "This still worth eatin'?" he asked himself, sniffed it, and replied "Eeyup." Then he used his mouth to carry it back to the barn.

The goose saw its opportunity for revenge. It tailed the pony as he trotted toward the barn, then quickly undid the rope around the stake as soon as the pony was in. The door slammed shut. There was a latching bolt on the other door, at a height a filly could reach it, just _barely_ within goose reach. The goose flapped its wings rapidly and jumped, getting just enough lift that it was able to grab the latch handle with its beak. It then scrabbled sideways, using feet braced against the door and wings banking to the side, to get the latch to slide closed across the other door.

"What in— _Hey!_ That goose locked me in!" The stallion banged on the door. "Let me out!"

This woke the elderly mare. "What in tarnation?" She got to her hooves, slowly, while the goose edged along the side of the building. "What's all this dadburned racket?"

"Granny, that goose locked me in the barn," the stallion's voice came through the door, muffled. "Can you get the door back open?"

"Land sakes, why don't you just go through the house?"

"My hooves are covered in mud."

"So wipe 'em off on the hay!"

"Granny, can you just get the door unlocked? I don't wanna bang on it, I might break it."

While the goose could hear this conversation behind it, that was not where its focus was. The pie was unguarded. And, it turned out, cool enough for a beak to carry it.

_Success!_ It lowered its neck and ran as fast as it could go to the orchard, where it hid the pie under a bush, near the plate.

~~Lock the stallion in the barn~~

The goose found its way back to where the mare with the hat was bucking apple trees. Juicy apples fell from the tree neatly into the barrel. It waited until the mare was poised to kick her back legs out again.

"HONK!" said the goose.

The mare jumped, startled, and her back legs, already in motion, flung out at air rather than the tree. She glared at the goose.

"You're a loud critter, aren't you?" she said. "Think you could tone that down some? Some of us've got work to do here."

~~Make a pony miss the tree~~

The goose flapped its wings indignantly and strolled off toward where it remembered seeing the picnic blanket.

* * *

The picnic blanket was where the goose remembered it being, but the picnic basket was not. That was frustrating. The goose grabbed the picnic blanket with its beak and dragged it deeper into the orchard. If the basket could randomly disappear because ponies probably took it, so could the blanket if it left it there.

After dragging the blanket to a location a good distance of any ponies, it went back to the gate to retrieve the pie and the plate. It looked as if the elderly mare was prowling around the yard, looking for her pie. The goose took the plate back to the blanket first, hoping the elderly mare would just give up the search, since it was going to have to drag the pie — it was too heavy to carry all the way to the picnic blanket by beak. The short distance to the gate to the orchard was one thing, but all the way to the picnic blanket? The goose was proud of the strength of its neck and beak, but some things were just pushing it.

After dropping the plate off at the picnic blanket, it went a different direction, toward where the filly had been playing with a ball. Near the filly, there was a small wooden building up in the tree, where it would be very easy to reach if the goose could just _fly_ , and the picnic basket was visible up there right by the entrance, as if the filly had just stashed it there rather than fully climbing into the treehouse to drop it off. There was a staircase that led up to the treehouse, with a sharp turn in the middle. The goose contemplated walking up the staircase, but the filly was in the area; if it took its picnic basket back now, the filly would probably see and take it back.

There was also a small stream nearby, leading to a pond. The goose had been doing a lot of walking lately; it headed into the stream to give its feet something of a rest. Of course it used its feet to swim, but the motion was completely different and the cool water felt delightful on its sore feet, revitalizing it.

After swimming around for a few minutes, it climbed back up the bank and walked toward the filly, stopping and ostentatiously looking at something else or pecking at the ground every time the filly looked over at it. Stealth, that was the name of the game. Don't look at me, I'm just an ordinary goose looking for goose food. I have no plans to steal your ball.

It worked. The filly kicked her ball toward a tree, and the goose flapped into action, intercepting the ball and using beak and wings to send it a different direction. "Hey!" the filly yelled. "You dumb goose! I was playing with that!"

The filly followed, but the goose reached the pond before she was able to catch up, and shoved the ball into the water.

"Oh, shoot! Applejack'll be mad if I get mud all over myself from wading in the pond," the filly said. "Maybe I should let Sweetie Belle or Scootaloo get it when they come over?... Nope. Apples do for themselves, that's what we do. I'm not gonna wait for my friends; I bet I can reach that without falling in the pond if I lay down on the bank."

The filly pulled several water reeds and grasses from the pond and lay them on the ground, on the bank of the pond, so she could lie down on them without getting mud all over her belly. She reached out toward the ball as it floated on the pond, trapped within more reeds.

Her head, and its bright pink ribbon, were _just_ at goose-beak height.

" _HEY!_ "

Triumphantly the goose ran off with the ribbon in its beak. It jumped into the pond before the filly was able to get back to her hooves, and began to swim off.

~~Steal a ribbon~~

Furiously, the filly waded into the pond, and began paddling with her hooves when it got just a little too deep for her. She couldn't outswim a goose, of course, but she was making a good try of it. The goose climbed back out of the pond on the far side and ran toward where the mare was bucking apples. The filly followed, coming back up onto land dripping wet and covered with mud all over her hooves and the bottom of her barrel, and pursued. "That's my ribbon! Give it back, you stupid goose!"

Recognizing that the filly would catch up with it shortly and take its prize from it anyway, the goose dropped the ribbon by the mare, who was lining up her next few buckets to buck apples into, and then strolled off at normal goose speed. "Land sakes!" the mare said, seeing the filly approach. "What happened to you?"

"That stupid _goose_ over there stole my ribbon! And then swam off into the pond! I had to follow it to get my ribbon back!"

"It's just a goose. No sense in getting so upset over it," the mare said. "Here, looks like it dropped your ribbon, but you're gonna have to go back to the house and get a shower before you can put it back on."

"Aw, really, sis? The rest of the Crusaders are coming over and we were gonna have a picnic!"

"You ain't planning to _eat_ with your hooves all over mud like that, are you?" the mare asked pointedly. "If I see your friends, I'll tell them you're in the shower and you'll be right out."

While the mare was distracted, the goose casually nudged the buckets out of alignment and then strutted off, looking this way and that, pretending it was just a goose looking for food again. Actually food sounded good. Maybe it would go back to the pond and get some nice leaves, a water bug or two, maybe even a small fish. A tiny fish would hit the spot right now.

The filly trudged off toward the house, head hung desolately, and the mare lined herself up with her first bucket. She kicked the tree twice, causing apples to fall from the tree on that side only, filling the bucket. The goose nudged the third bucket further out of alignment than it had been.

The mare, presumably assuming that the buckets were still in the same position relative to each other, did not check to see if they were lined up properly on the second bucket, which was, or on the third which wasn't.

Apples fell to the ground and rolled every which way, down the gentle slope toward the pond. "Shoot!" the mare exclaimed. "I don't know how I missed that bucket!" She bent down to gather up apples with her teeth, gently biting the stem and tossing the apple into the barrel she'd missed.

The second time she did it, the goose lunged forward and grabbed her hat off her head.

"What— _no!_ Darned goose! Give that _back!_ "

The goose ran for the pond, but it wasn't as fast as a pony; the mare caught up with it easily. "Shoo! Shoo! Stop messing with our stuff, goose! Land sakes, do I have to set Fluttershy on you?"

She retrieved her hat and put it on. The goose flapped its wings indignantly and then strode off, head held high, pretending that it meant to drop that hat anyway.

There was a lasso at the mare's side. Somehow the goose had to get _that_ from her. That would be a challenge.

~~Take the mare's hat~~

~~Let the apples hit the ground~~

But first, a picnic to arrange. The goose was feeling peckish.

* * *

The goose returned to the general area of the house, hoping the stallion hadn't eaten the sandwich.

Jackpot! It was still there in the barn, on a new plate. The stallion was back up on the roof, hammering away, and the elderly mare was not visible. That was good. The goose strolled into the barn, took the sandwich, and strolled out.

"You consarned long-necked excuse for a bird, that's my grandson's sandwich!" Whoops. There was the elderly mare, just leaving the house at exactly the wrong time. The goose ran for the gate to the orchard. The mare pursued, but dropped off the chase, panting, as the goose cleared the gate. "Bread ain't even good for waterfowl!" the elderly mare yelled. "You go on and clog your guts up!"

The goose was well aware that bread wasn't actually good for geese, but it was _so tasty._ Still, it wanted its full picnic experience, which meant it wasn't going to eat the sandwich just yet.

It headed through the orchard to the place where it had stashed its picnic blanket, and laid the sandwich on the plate. Now, it needed to get the basket from the filly's clubhouse, retrieve the pie, find a jug and a cup from somewhere, and steal an apple from one of the ubiquitous buckets. The apple seemed like the easiest of those endeavors, but that just meant the goose was going to save it for last.

Instead, it headed for the clubhouse. The steps were a little on the high side for a waddling creature to manage, but by flapping its wings and jumping, the goose managed to make it up the stairs. 

The filly was in there already. She gasped. "You — _goose!_ "

The goose was not going to let the filly prevent it from capturing its prize, not after it had worked so hard to get up here. The basket was inside the clubhouse now, not easily grabbable, so the goose ran at the filly, honking loudly. The filly backed away. "Shoo, goose!" she said. "I'll get my big sister up here to get you! You — you better not come near me!"

But of course, the goose didn't need to go near the filly anymore, since she had moved away from the basket. It grabbed the basket handle with its beak and dragged it toward the door. The filly came forward to try to chase the goose off the basket, but a few loud honks and threatening wing-flaps, and the filly was reduced to making toothless verbal threats. "My big brother will get you and we'll put you in a cage and ship you to Manehattan, don't think we won't!"

And then the goose had reached the door. The filly had decided to be brave. "I'm not letting a goose steal my picnic basket!" she shouted, and charged. The goose quickly decided there was only one option, and jumped off the platform, with the basket, which immediately fell from its beak because it couldn't concentrate on trying to fly — or at least, not crashland — and hold the basket at the same time.

After considerable frantic flapping, the goose landed, heavily but not so heavily that it injured anything, though its legs were a little sore from the impact and its wings were exhausted from the workout. The filly didn't have the option of just jumping, since she didn't have wings, so she was trotting down the stairs. The goose dragged the basket as fast as it could go toward the stream a short distance away.

"Aw, no! I can't go in the water to get the basket after I just took a shower — I'll get all over mud again!" The filly stood at the bank, watching the goose swim away with her basket, forlornly. "You stupid goose! What do you even want a picnic basket for?"

Really, how dumb was this filly? _Obviously_ the goose wanted the picnic basket to have a picnic with! What else would a goose want a picnic basket for?

* * *

After dropping the basket off on its picnic blanket, the goose returned to the house to get the last few items it needed. The elderly mare was carrying a jug out to the little table the pie had been on. This was promising, since a jug was one of the things the goose needed.

"Big Mac! Go get your sisters! It's time to come get some juice!" the mare said.

The stallion came down off the roof and headed out toward the orchard. The goose sidled closer to the table. "You better not even think about it," the elderly mare warned. "I've got my eye on you!"

She went in the house. The goose considered stealing the jug, but after the mare had just warned it, the goose suspected she was watching through the window. However, from the window she couldn't see where the goose had hidden the pie, so now was a good time to go get the pie and drag it to the picnic blanket.

Once it had accomplished that, the goose returned to the house. Now all four ponies were there, drinking apple juice out of mugs. The goose was very interested; it needed a mug or some other cup to complete its picnic preparations, as well as the jug. But how to distract the ponies so it could get the jug and a mug?

The garden sloped upward, gently and gracefully at first and then more steeply. At the top of the hill was more orchard, and in front of the orchard there were a dozen full barrels of apples. The goose would have smiled if beaks could do that. It waddled up the garden, considering the possibility of pulling out some random carrots or turnips just for fun, or kicking a cabbage down the hill... but no. Those things might distract _one_ pony. It needed a stunt that would get them _all_ involved.

Pecking at the barrel didn't work. Pushing the barrel forward didn't work. But the goose discovered that when it put the barrel to its back, and then walked backward and braced itself against the ground, it could use its backside to shove the barrel over.

One. Two. Three. Four. An endless stream of apples ran down the hill, like an avalanche. "What the—" the goose heard from down where the ponies were.

"It's that goose again!"

"Come on, we gotta get those apples up and get those barrels away from that goose before it ruins them!"

The four ponies galloped up the hill, trying to intercept rolling apples. The goose waddled away and strolled down the hill. Four ponies were now completely occupied with cleaning up the apple avalanche. 

Time to go get that jug!

First, though, the goose made off with a mug, because the mugs were smaller and lighter. It had to dump out the juice, of course, but the goose wasn't interested in drinking the juice anyway; the goose preferred water. It hid the mug under a bush and then went back for the jug. The ponies were still cleaning up the apples.

Time for picnic!

The goose dragged the jug all the way to its blanket, then went and got the mug. The ponies had almost finished cleaning up the apples. That reminded the goose that it also needed an apple, but the orchard was full of buckets and barrels of them. It wasn't hard to go find a bucket of apples, grab an apple, and bring it to the blanket.

Blanket, apple, basket, pie, daisy sandwich, plate, jug, cup. Everything was ready!

The daisy sandwich was very good. The pie was all right, maybe too sweet. The goose didn't actually do anything with the jug or the cup; it was just there for ambience.

~~Apple avalanche~~

~~Have a picnic (blanket, apple, basket, pie, daisy sandwich, plate, jug, cup)~~

* * *

After the picnic, the goose went looking for cows. They had to live around here someplace, right?

It took a while to find them. Their paddock wasn't actually particularly near where the pigs, or the chickens, or for that matter the ponies, lived; it was out past an arm of the orchard. But there they were, a whole group of cows, lowing their conversation with each other in their cow accents.

The goose didn't care about any of that. It wasn't even concerned with the to-do list anymore. _They were wearing cowbells._

One of those bells _would_ be the goose's before the day was done, it vowed.

It tried strolling up to one of the cows, very casually, pretending it was looking at anything other than the cowbell. "Oh, look, Maisy," one of the cows said. "You have a visitor."

The cow the goose was approaching, presumably Maisy, turned to look. "A goose!" Maisy exclaimed. 

"Oh, they're bad news," one of the other cows said, backing away. "Betty's son and the calves he runs with once ran into a Yakyakistani goose. It didn't end well for them."

"I heard about that," a third cow said.

"What should I do? Should I charge it?" Maisy asked.

"No, let's just ignore it," the cow who had originally pointed the goose out said. "Betty's son tried charging the goose. That's how his ears got all bitten up."

"We're a lot bigger than a goose, don't you think it should fly off if we threaten it?"

"Did you hear about what happened to Betty's son?"

The goose was uninterested in the circular conversation. Comparing it to a Yakyakistani goose! Those jerks, they thought they were so great just because they could fly. The goose was _proud_ that it wasn't a Yakyakistani goose. Besides, did yaks have anywhere near as many nice things to steal as ponies did? The goose guessed the answer was "no."

Maisy lowered her head to munch on the grass, and the goose saw its opportunity. It dove in toward her neck and grabbed for her cowbell.

Unfortunately, Maisy noticed this before the goose was able to firmly get its beak around the bell. "What— no! Get away from me! Shoo!" Maisy swung her head, with horns, at the goose, who had to dodge backward, honking and fluttering in indignation.

Three more attempts at getting a cowbell failed after that. The cows were just too fast. They noticed the goose's presence instantly because their eyes were on the sides of their head, rather than facing front like pony eyes, and their heads _were_ one of their major weapons — they were well equipped to swing their horns at anyone who was trying to approach their necks. Sadly, the goose had to recognize that the cowbell was probably not happening. Maybe it would work late at night when the cows were sleeping, but the goose didn't think _it_ could stay up that late, even for a cowbell.

Well. Maybe after it was done with its to-do list, it could come back and get a cowbell.

What it needed to do was to figure out how to get on the cow's back. Jumping on the cow's head while the cow was trying to swing her horns at it didn't seem like a safe option, but it couldn't fly and cows were tall.

Nearby it saw a number of barrels and buckets. It considered the possibility of climbing on a bucket, then jumping to a barrel, then jumping on a cow, but there were three problems with this. Firstly, it couldn't jump onto the bucket; secondly, if it couldn't jump onto the bucket it wasn't going to be able to jump to the top of a barrel; thirdly, the cows were not near the barrels and buckets. What to do?

Well. One of the buckets had a pail handle within beak reach. The goose tried tugging on this until the bucket tipped over. Apples spilled everywhere.

"Oh, look what that goose did!" one of the cows tsked. 

"Should we clean it up for Applejack and Big Mac? They're such nice ponies and they work so hard."

"Yes, let's!"

The cows did not have the kind of hooves that could lift things; they needed to bend their heads down to pick up apples with their teeth. The goose waited patiently half-behind the toppled bucket until a cow came in range, lowering her head to get an apple just far enough past the goose that the goose couldn't easily get her cowbell, but the cow couldn't easily hit the goose with her horn. 

With a good hard flap, the goose leapt, and landed on the back of the cow's neck.

"Waaa! It's on me!" The cow tried lifting and shaking her head, but by now, the goose had managed to reach the middle of the cow's back, where no antics she could perform with her head could dislodge it. "Shoo, goose, shoo!"

Maisy tried thrusting her head at the goose to chase it off her friend's back, but the goose pecked her head, and that was that. Then none of the other cows wanted to go anywhere near the goose. 

"Take it to the Apples! They'll get that goose right off!" one of the cows suggested.

This was generally considered an excellent suggestion, so the cow that the goose was riding began galloping toward the main farm buildings. The goose raised its wings and used them to balance itself on the cow's back. This felt like it imagined flying would. It was fun.

~~Ride a cow~~

As they approached the farm, the goose saw the big red stallion nailing something into the ground. It was a wooden board with a picture of the goose on it, in a red circle with a line through it.

The goose was pleased. It knew what a circle around a picture meant, to ponies: "pay attention to this!" 

"Help!" the cow yelled. "I've got this goose on me and it won't get off!"

"Oh, no, don't bring that consarned critter back around here," the orange mare said. "We just got _rid_ of that thing!"

The goose hopped down. The filly with the pretty ribbon was there. This time the goose wanted to keep the ribbon and bring it home. Or maybe wear it. Wouldn't it look nice around the goose's neck instead of in the filly's mane?

It ran toward the filly at full goose speed. She shrieked. "Applejack! It's after me!"

"Dadburned critter!" The mare removed the lasso at her side and swung it at the goose. 

The goose squawked in an undignified way and flapped, dodging the lasso. The mare pulled it back and swung again, but this time, the goose leaned into it and grabbed the rope with its beak, and started to run.

The mare tried to pull it back. The goose ran at the red stallion, charging through his legs with the lasso in its beak. The stallion tried to back away, and ended up stumbling over the lasso and tripping into the mud.

~~Trip a pony with a lasso~~

The goose released the lasso and ran around the side of the house. If it was counting correctly, that was the whole to-do list!

It lifted its wing in the gesture that made the list appear.

\- ~~Lock the stallion in the barn~~

\- ~~Take the mare~~ ~~'s hat~~

\- ~~Apple avalanche~~

\- ~~Steal a ribbon~~

\- ~~Make a pony miss the tree~~

\- ~~Let the apples hit the ground~~

\- ~~Trip a pony with a lasso~~

\- ~~Ride a cow~~

\- ~~Have a picnic (blanket, apple, basket, pie, daisy sandwich, plate, jug, cup)~~

\- Help the stallion be pretty

The goose would have frowned if beaks bent that way. "Help the stallion be pretty" hadn't been on the list before. How was it supposed to accomplish _that?_ Maybe steal the ribbon again and tie it around the stallion... somehow?

"Go take a shower, Mac," it heard the elderly mare say. "You're all over mud."

"Eeyup."

Well, taking a shower was like getting into a birdbath or rinsing off in a stream for the goose, right? It was part of pony grooming? So logically, taking a shower would be part of getting pretty. But getting the stallion covered in mud so that he went to go take a shower didn't seem to be enough, in and of itself.

The goose pried the side door open by pulling on the handle with its beak, and padded into the house, following the stallion, who didn't look behind and therefore didn't see his small white stalker. It followed the stallion up the stairs, but not into the bathroom. Pretty meant wearing pretty things. Where could it get some pretty things?

It went into the first bedroom it found. There was a closet, which was open, and in the closet there were dresses. They were mare-sized, so maybe too small for the stallion?

Using its beak, it pulled open drawers. Oh. _There._ A lovely sunbonnet! The goose managed to get its own head into the sunbonnet, and strutted in front of the mirror for a bit, before the bonnet fell off since the goose had no way of tying it on and it was much too large. The stallion would be very pretty if he wore this bonnet!

Carrying the bonnet in its beak, the goose snuck out of the room, and into the bathroom, where the stallion was showering behind a curtain. The goose pulled open the door of the under-sink cabinet and squeezed itself in, positioning itself to wait. It wasn't sure how it was going to get the bonnet on the stallion's head, yet, but it knew the tub itself was too small to maneuver in, so it wasn't going to sneak into the actual shower.

The curtain opened, the stallion pulling on it with his teeth. He grasped a towel with his mouth, took it with one hoof and began to use it to dry himself. And then he saw the bonnet.

"Granny Smith's bonnet. That don't belong in here," he said, firmly. He took two steps over, bent his head, picked up the bonnet with his teeth... and hesitated, looking at his blurry image in the fogged-over full-size mirror.

Then he set the bonnet back down, used his hoof and the towel to wipe down the mirror, and then picked up the bonnet and put it on his head.

"Ah do declare, Granny, your bonnet is absolutely lovely!" the stallion said in a high-pitched voice. "Thank you kindly for lending it! Ah've never felt so pretty!"

The stallion tilted his head in the mirror, posing with the bonnet. Uncharacteristically, the goose actually felt it had accomplished something that _benefited_ its pony target, for once. The stallion really seemed to enjoy being pretty.

/>

~~Help the stallion be pretty~~

The to-do list was done. The goose waited for the stallion to finish posing with the pretty bonnet. Finally, he left the room and returned the bonnet to his grandmother's room. "Oh, shoot!" the goose heard. "Looks like that goose got in here!"

That was the goose's cue. It ran for the stairs with a honk. The stallion pursued it, having heard the honk, and chased it down and outside. He shook a hoof at the goose as it ran for the exit gate of Sweet Apple Acres. "Get out of here!"

"And don't come back!" the elderly mare yelled.

The goose's work here was done. It strutted down the road, leaving Sweet Apple Acres behind.

* * *

As it approached a brightly colored building that looked as if it was made of candy, the goose checked for a new to-do list.

Model a dress

Pick the flowers

Steal candy from a baby

Stake in a cake

Scare a mare

Play with the cat

Try some sewing

Bake cupcakes (flour, icing, cupcake pans, decorations, sugar, cupcake boxes, paper plates)

Cupcakes, hmm? Well, the candy building looked like a good place to start with that. The goose confidently walked toward the building, excited to begin a new round of mayhem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend of mine who's transitioning gender insisted on the Big Mac part. I see Big Mac as more GNC than trans, with little space in his life to explore that part of him, but I'd accept a headcanon where Big Mac comes out as a trans mare.
> 
> Illustrations are mine, kitbashed out of screenshots.
> 
> The story about "Betty's son" and the Yakyakistani goose comes from this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k15kJeyEnrk
> 
> Bread really is bad for geese. Don't feed them bread.


End file.
